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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22883410">how long will we ride this wave out</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightyleviathan/pseuds/mightyleviathan'>mightyleviathan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Falsettos - Lapine/Finn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Introspection, M/M, Mentions of Jason and Trina, Pre-Canon, and act 1/march of the falsettos, whizzers headspace basically</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:15:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22883410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightyleviathan/pseuds/mightyleviathan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Marvin is not at first glance what Whizzer would consider his type.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Whizzer Brown/Marvin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>how long will we ride this wave out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>warning: the f-slur is used once by whizzer to refer to himself in a way that’s not positive, but not hateful. the word is just a part of his life.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They blur together in a way that he loves. These men, the same types of people at the same types of bars- they serve their purpose and give him a good time, lasting a couple weeks, if he’s lucky. They enjoy the novelty of him. He fucks them, charms them, plays the sad, dirt-poor faggot they (maybe rightly) assume he is. He knows it makes them feel special. They think he’s younger than he is, and Whizzer lets them. It doesn’t take long for the itch to set in, and he drops the charm. He gets too mean, plays too rough and their fragile egos take a dent, as do their wallets. So they go back to their girlfriends and wives, and pathetic nine to fives. Back to- ugh, <em> Jersey. </em>He doesn’t bother to draw it out. They’d get bored of the starving twunk artist act soon enough, anyway. Might as well milk them for what they’re worth when he can. They have fun while it lasts though, and so does he. He enjoys it. Not just the romance, whirlwind, attention, and gifts. He feels as though he’s providing a service. Not in a hooker-y way (not that there's anything wrong with that. Maybe sometimes in a hooker-y way, depending on who you ask.), but in an altruistic way. In many cases, it’s like he’s introducing them to his world. His world being The Village, and the people, places, and experiences that come with it. It’s the most beautiful place in the world. The characters, the lights, the stories. He thinks about his big sister back in The Bronx with her shitty husband and cute kids and feels so sorry for her. Sorry that she can’t have this. Sorry that God didn’t make the same mistake making her as he did her little brother. </p><p>Marvin is not at first glance what Whizzer would consider his type. The usual types are typically a bit older than Marvin is, more classically handsome than him, dressed nicer than him. He’s only a few years Whizzer’s senior (not that Marvin will <em>ever</em> know that), but he carries himself with the same burden as the older men do. His rolex is the real deal and costs more than several months rent in Whizzer’s building. He isn’t showing off, noticeably wearing expensive clothing or accessories. He’s dressed drab (understatement) and doesn’t seem to be self conscious about it in a way that screams <em> old money. </em>Most interestingly to Whizzer, he wears a ring without shame. He knows what he is, and knows someone will be happy to give him what he needs. Whizzer takes a chance, and takes the bait.</p><p>He isn’t Whizzer’s type physically, either. He doesn’t find him especially handsome or distinguished. No, as Whizzer speaks to him, he’s surprised to find Marvin inexpressibly sexy. Marvin isn’t the typical closet case family man Whizzer expected. He’s <em> charming.</em> Not nervous like some, or suave like others. He charms in a way that makes Whizzer stumble back, disarmed as he re-evaluates his next move. The more time he spends with him, the more he’s drawn to the man. Drawn to the way he carries himself, to the low timbre of his voice, to the sharpness of his eyes, the crooked bottom teeth he spies if he stares at his mouth long enough. Drawn to the surprisingly nice arms and broad shoulders hidden under that hideous jacket, and the strength and elegance of his profile in the slope of his wonky nose. It throws him for a loop. He stands out from the rest.</p><p>He sees him again. And again. </p><p>Whizzer experimentally pushes his buttons after the fourth time they hook up. To his surprise, it does the opposite of what he’s come to expect. He’s not disillusioned, he’s <em> enraptured. </em>Marvin has a temper, and Whizzer likes to see it. Marvin likes to see his too. Whizzer’s always had thick skin; slurs and insults are nothing more than background music. Marvin sparks a fire from a puddle of gasoline that he didn’t know was there. </p><p>So what if Whizzer keeps coming back to the same bar knowing <em> (hoping) </em>that Marvin will be there looking and waiting for him. So what if the one time he’s there and Marvin isn’t he goes to different bars for two weeks picking up men and being disgusted in himself for fantasizing about Marvin sitting there, pathetically alone, hoping Whizzer will show up.</p><p>Whizzer shows up.</p><p>They soon abandon the alleys and bathrooms for his apartment. He stops at payphones on the walk over to tell his wife <em> I’ll be working late </em> and <em> no, just go to sleep, </em> and <em> yes, I can pick up Jason tomorrow. </em> Whizzer breathes on his neck and watches him shudder as he tells the mother of his child that he loves her, too. It's a sad and- sort of gross display. When Marvin leaves without staying the night for the third time in a row, he realizes he hates her. He tells himself and Marvin it’s because she’s boring and keeps this very surprisingly very interesting man away from doing very interesting things <em> (like him). </em> After two months, He tells Marvin he doesn’t have to lie all the time. When Marvin looks at him like he just grew a second head and started making out with it, he clarifies.</p><p>“Tell her you’re with a friend.”</p><p>He meets her when he picks Marvin up at his place to go do whatever the hell Marvin tells her they do together. </p><p>(<em>Racquetball, </em>as it turns out. It pains Whizzer to not laugh when she says it because <em> Marv, </em>if that isn’t the gayest shit you could have picked.)</p><p>She wants him to come over for dinner, and jokes about wanting to get to know the man stealing her husband away with a too-sharp-to-be-real laugh, followed by two distinctly uncomfortable imitations. He finds himself wondering, not for the first time, what all she suspects.</p><p>He knew they were real. Her and the kid. He’d even seen pictures. But the shitty, scratched portrait in Marvin’s wallet didn’t prepare him for this sad, horny, desperate housewife. He wonders if she would say yes if he propositioned her. He wouldn’t- not in a billion years. </p><p><em> (Would she, though? </em> He can’t help but ponder. <em> Or is she too loyal to the husband she knows is lying to her, even if she doesn’t know how deep the lies go?) </em></p><p>She’s beautiful. In a simple, wholesome way. The perfect jewish wife and mother. <em> Does he tell her she’s pretty? Does he notice her glossy, fresh manicure? The way she’s done her makeup </em><em>to make a good impression, get his attention? Can he still get it up for her, or have they given up trying? </em></p><p>He knows his hate is unfounded. He has no reason to be jealous. <em> She </em> should hate <em> him.</em> She should be jealous of him, and <em> is. </em> But he feels it when he sees the pained family photos on the walls and the lonely boy playing chess in the corner. <em> Breeders, </em>he thinks. It's the same everywhere you look. Cheating spouses, fake smiles, children disappointing parents and parents disappointing children. He hates the pathetic culture it holds up. Patriarchy and repression. </p><p>More than that, he hates that he can’t have it. </p><p>He doesn’t allow himself to think about what if’s. He is what he is, and what’s done is done. Maybe in another life there would be a small hand wrapped around his thumb, birthday parties to plan, and a round face resembling his own or that of a man he loves. Maybe Whizzer and people like him could have something like this, and do it <em> better. </em></p><p>He sees the kid play games with himself, feels something twinge in his chest as he sees how familiar those curls and look of concentration are. Tells himself to stop, that it’s not his place. </p><p>Yet, he sits down across from him, and asks to play. He pretends he doesn’t see the look on Marvin’s face as, after a few minutes, his son breaks out into a toothy grin that’s so familiar that Whizzer’s heart aches. </p><p>He didn’t think he’d do it. Leave. Leave the confused son and wife who <em> Knows, </em> but would continue to sleep in the same bed with him if he’d let her. Whizzer tells him, <em> I didn’t ask you to. </em>Marvin says he knows, but does he?</p><p>He’s painfully aware that this is now the longest relationship he’s ever had. It’s wonderful, and It makes his skin crawl for Whizzer to feel this much. He resents what it’s done to him. He barely recognizes himself now and he’s not sure if that’s good or bad. Awake at three in the morning with a man in his arms he wonders if he’s being set free or slowly suffocated. He frequently tries to get Marvin to regret what he’s done. <em>Just because you did this doesn’t mean I’ll change.</em> <em>I never wanted you to leave them, </em>he says. Is it truthful? He’s not sure.</p><p>Marvin wants to know if he loves him; asks and begs with less subtlety and more desperation as time goes on. Whizzer could lie and say no, but he doesn’t. Just laughs in his face or stares in pity or disappointment. Marvin never tells him Whizzer loves him, and Whizzer never asks.</p><p>Marvin finds his jabs less and less titillating and more and more irritating, the longer they cohabitate. Whizzer sees the resentment, insecurities and anger building. Could since the minute Marvin showed up on his stoop all those months ago, saying he was <em> free. </em> But men like Marvin, who have spent their whole lives obsessing over the lies forced upon themselves by their own vanity are never <em>free.</em></p><p>He pushes harder; the tantrums grow in frequency.</p><p>The family dinners make his skin crawl. Jason’s anger stewing as his mother sneaks off to the kitchen to weep. Marvin, pretending this is normal. Whizzer, forbidden from touching his own boyfriend. Whizzer, the homewrecker. He stops attending. He doesn’t miss them, but he does miss Jason. Marvin starts spending more time at the residence who’s paperwork bares his name, but who’s halls don’t contain his belongings. The shrink does the same. So- Whizzer spends more time out at the bars he once spent almost every night at. He finds the lights and the men duller than they once seemed. Yet he makes sure he gets home late enough to miss dinner, smelling of alcohol and expensive cologne.</p><p>The fights are less fun than they were. They both turn from mean and catty to outright cruel. It’s like a game. <em> I’ll show you my worst self if you show me yours. </em> Dishes are broken; scotch is spilled. When it’s especially bad, the suitcase makes an appearance. Marvin says or does something especially heinous and Whizzer wordlessly takes out the beaten up old thing he’s taken with him since he was kicked out (or since he <em>left,</em> depending on who you asked) at seventeen and watches Marvin cave. The waves of <em> something, </em>deep and unrelenting that have plagued him since he first met Marvin no longer crash to the surface with thunder-like claps. They simmer and whimper as they roll out to his feet. He looks on the bright side (as he always does); they never need to worry about boring each other.</p><p>He wishes he could hate Marvin for what he says and does. He feels only pity for him.</p><p>It’s obvious something’s gotta give. It’s just a matter of who breaks first. He pushes. Marvin pushes back.</p><p>Whizzer makes sure he pushes harder. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hiii again! so i guess you could see this as a companion to my other falsettos fic, which is kind of a marvin character study??? although that one has real dialogue and an actual concept, unlike this which is just stream of consciousness nonsense. anyway i hope you like it!! i live for feedback and kudos and just love to talk about falsettos lmao so leave me a comment and be my friend!!</p><p>title is from idylls of the king by the mountain goats, which i love but is not a song i would typically associate with them. but this era of m/w has some Big Alpha Couple Energy (https://themountaingoats.fandom.com/wiki/Alpha_Couple if you are not a tmg groupie) so i listened to an alpha couple  playlist on my break today in search of a line concise and fitting enough for the title of this piece and this is the one i vibed with the most!</p><p>i probably would have done the line “the fights and the lies that we both love to tell fail to send our love to it’s reward down in hell” from fault lines if it weren’t so damn long. rip.</p><p>anyway bye thanks for reading i love you!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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